Israel - Shekels, Falafel, and Crusaders

Our apartment in Tiberias is on the third floor of an eight-story building in a housing complex with about thirty buildings spread out among a series of roundabouts and perched on top of a hill looking out to the Sea of Galilee.  From our living room window, we can get a decent glimpse of the water between two sandy-colored blocked buildings.  Our balcony faces east, so we get warm morning sun, and we’ve discovered that it’s the perfect spot for early coffee and tea and for placing the laundry rack to ensure dry clothing by nightfall.  The apartment is large with walls painted white and twelve-inch ceramic tiles on all the floors.  It’s easy to keep clean with a quick sweep, and when all the blinds are open, the place is bright and cheerful and spacious enough for us all to spread out and relax after exploring all day.  

Since Deveny prefers the daybed in the living room, Joseph has his own room with one bed for sleeping and the other for piling his stuff.  The master bedroom has two single beds pushed together to form a kingsize bed, and Deena and I have our own bathroom, while the kids use the one in the hall.  A second bathroom is a rare, sultanesque luxury that we’ve only enjoyed in one other place so far on the trip, and it really does make life easier.  The kitchen is open to the living room with a small dining table separating the two spaces, and there is a fair amount of counter space around a wide, deep sink.  There is an electric oven, which is also a rarity, and a gas cooktop, which has been common to all the places we’ve traveled, and I can confidently say that after four months on the road, I am more proficient at cooking eggs on a gas stove than Emeril Lagasse.  In a dedicated shrine in the corner of the kitchen basking in copious amounts of glory shine is an efficient, top-loading washing machine, which quickly earned the distinction as a Gift From the Lord.

I am not an economist and just barely understand the basic tenets of supply and demand, but after two weeks of forking out handfuls of shekels at the checkout, I can confidently claim that Israel ain’t cheap.  At first, we thought we just needed to get away from the small neighborhood markets and find the large grocery stores to get relief, but high prices are everywhere, and it’s been a struggle to keep the budget under control.  Basic staples like eggs, butter, and milk cost twice the amount we’ve paid elsewhere and at home, and cleaning products cost as much as prime steaks.  The small, four-dollar roll of paper towels stayed on the store shelf as an unattainable symbol of status as we walked away wondering how we could possibly handle small spills.  

I’ve read a few articles about the economic situation in Israel up to the point where descriptions of embargoes, import laws, and tax structures caused my eyes to quickly glaze over, but even an economic simpleton like me can understand that it must be a struggle to stretch a shekel here.  On various forums, locals offer tips to travelers like “purchase government subsidised bread” or “buy fresh, seasonal fruits and vegetables.”  I’m sure those are good tricks, and if we lived here for a while we would figure out ways to save more money, but for now, guava and cabbage won’t help much.  Thankfully, everyone in my crew likes fresh pita bread and hummus, and we’re not tired of it yet, so we’ve got that going for us.

We took a break from the Biblical trail for one day and hung around the apartment to do some laundry and rest for a bit.  The children pressed on with their schoolwork, and by early afternoon we were ready to venture out for a while.  We found the mall in central Tiberias, and while it wasn't as large as the one in Tel Aviv, it had nice stores and free parking in the basement deck.  Lunch at McDonalds cost a small fortune, and the cheeseburgers we were hoping for didn’t come with cheese since the restaurant was kosher, and cheeseburgers don’t conform to Jewish dietary laws.  I’m sure the counter guys tried to tell us that, but our Hebrew skills aren’t developing very quickly.  Our cheeseless cheeseburgers still tasted pretty good, and the fries were as excellent as those we’ve found at McDonald's in every country.

The mall wasn’t crowded, and Deena and I enjoyed sitting and talking in the bright courtyard while the kids explored the latest fashions they’ve been missing while living on the road.  I discovered a small but well-stocked outdoor store on the second floor, and they had several lines of synthetic hiking pants, the first I’ve seen since the $150 ones I turned down in Cinque Terre.  The clerk in the store didn’t speak English, but he enjoyed having us there, and he offered a twenty percent discount on every item in which I showed interest.  I ended up purchasing a pair of charcoal-colored zip-off pants with drawstring cuffs to replace my travel worn and frayed khaki pants, which had holes from campfires past that were growing larger with each washing.  I like my new pants a lot, and with the discount I received, they were less expensive than similar pants in the outdoor stores back home, so the current score is:  Israeli economy 500, Painter family 1.

The next day I had an opportunity to test my new pants in the Crusader city of Akko, located on the shore of the Mediterranean about sixty kilometers due west of Tiberias.  Since we’ve been in Israel, many people have told us to visit this historic town also known as Acre, so we got an early start and headed west in the Picanto.  Akko has a natural harbor, so it was an important trade town in antiquity, and it’s been inhabited continuously for over four-thousand years.  The Knights Templar made Akko their headquarters after their defeat in Jerusalem in 1187, and they wasted no time building a fortress and their wealth in this city by the sea.  By some miracle we found free parking by the seawall, and we spent a couple hours walking the narrow streets and alleys of the old city following the route of the central market lined by stalls packed with colorful clothing, brass hookahs, jewelry, souvenirs, and big bins heaped with fresh fish and spices.  The vendors here weren’t as aggressive as the ones in Jaffa, and we enjoyed a slow walk through the market ending at the Crusader Citadel where we spent some time exploring the well-preserved fortress.

We discovered a hole-in-the-wall falafel joint on the outskirts of the old city where the proprietor used an amazing little machine that produced perfectly-sized balls of chickpeas, herbs, and spices and sent them sizzling into a vat of hot oil.  Once they were cooked, the falafel floated to the top of the oil where our sandwich artist scooped them up steaming into hot pita bread stuffed with fresh vegetables and tangy sauce.  Washed down with cold orange Fanta, these pitas were delicious, and the whole meal set us back only fifteen bucks.

In 1994, a housewife in Akko complained to her landlord about a strong sewer smell coming from the walls of her old city apartment, and upon investigation, workers made an amazing discovery.  Running a length of 350 meters below the streets was a tunnel built by the Knights Templar that ran from their fortress to the port.  Part of the tunnel was carved into the natural stone, while the majority of the passage was covered with finished blocks in a barrel design.  The knights built the tunnel for easier passage to the port from their citadel as well as a means of escape in the event of an attack.  For a small admission fee, we walked the length of the tunnel from the heart of the old city to its exit at the port right in front of our parked Picanto, and it was a huge thrill to tread this historical secret tunnel.  Thankfully, our close parking turned out to be fortuitous as rain clouds swept in from the sea and opened up just as we left the tunnel, and we made our way out of Akko full of falafel and Crusader intrigue.  Back at the apartment we made a big pot of soup and watched a few documentaries about the Crusades to finish up a fun day in this country full of never-ending discovery.

Seawall at Akko